


We Were Both Young When I First Saw You

by westerntrain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, BAMF Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter is full of emotion, Harry is basically adopted by the Weasleys, M/M, Mysterious Draco Malfoy, Passionate Harry Potter, Royalty Draco Malfoy, Temperamental Harry Potter, but he's always kind at heart, intense feelings, is it hate or love?, let's stop stereotyping Draco Malfoy it's getting tiring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22503952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westerntrain/pseuds/westerntrain
Summary: Harry can't stand him.How can he just sit there reading book, ignoring the world around him, while his parents sprouting hateful insults to Harry's?"You!"The blonde boy looks left and right. And seeing that no one is nearby, he finally raises his gaze and meets Harry's. He lifts an eyebrow. "Do I know you?"The heck?! It's definitely the boy's fault that Harry explodes!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 284





	We Were Both Young When I First Saw You

**Author's Note:**

> Finally upload this!
> 
> I haven't got a more fitting title for this. I imagine this song with this Draco and Harry in her music video, and hope that you can imagine it too..
> 
> I'm getting tired of Draco being widely stereotyped lately... I really think Draco is a strong and proud character.  
> I hope this fic gives a breeze of fresh air and hope you'll like it..
> 
> I only proof-read it a bit, so tell me what you think :D  
> Your comment will make my day..
> 
> I wish you have a nice day, have a happy life :D <3

Harry can’t say that this is not extra exquisite.

  
However much he hates social gatherings, extravagant decorations in Ministry of Magic’s grand hall never fails to attract Harry to come every single year.

That, and also his _very_ persistent family.

Since Arthur Weasley is one of Ministry’s workers, every member of his family is invited to Annual Yule Ball, and any other Ministry’s celebrations. That’s including him.  
He once said that he wasn’t actually a Weasley, -a desperate plea to not attend a gala, induced by trauma of the past celebration where he did something stupid that included crying girl and smashed glasses of wine so that he was trying hard to refuse to go that next time-, so they should just go without him. But that only resulted a weeping Molly, wounded look on Arthur, and barrels of protests and hugs and angry shouts and reassurances and “We all go or we all stay!” from the rest.

Harry will not make the same mistake again.

The general impression of Yule Ball isn’t so bad, though. The music plays harmonically in the background, under a charmed roof that shows bright night sky, snows falling and disappearing before they touch anyone’s head. Intricate ornaments look fine under meticulous lightings, and the banquette is always satisfying.

Harry might enjoy celebrations… If only there aren’t too many girls trying to ask him to dance.

He still can’t get over the fact that he’s famous. Come on, it’s not like he actually knows what he’d done that made Voldemort die. He was an infant! It must be his parents’ magic that kept him safe, no one should think of Harry as _hero_ or something.

  
“Harry… do you want a cake?”

Harry almost chokes on his drink. He is just in the middle of choosing over several cakes when an enthusiastic hand pats his shoulder, and travels down to the small of his back.

Harry freezes. Oh no! Not again…

He turns around. “Hey Vane,” Harry greets with something on his lips which he’s sure has more resemblance to a grimace than a smile.

She offers a piece of treacle tart to him with a too wide grin, which is terrifying.  
“No, thanks! I-“

Her face drops a second, and Harry loses any excuse he has in mind. Will she cry? But when she leans _extremely_ close, he remembers why he shouldn’t take any foods or drinks offered to _him only_.

“I need to go to Ron. God knows he will accidentally drink something he shouldn’t if no one reminds him. Bye!” He tries to be as polite but as clear as possible -that he's _not interested_ \- by walking away with haste.

When she replies in a dazed tone “Bye, Harry!” he figures he’s not clear enough. Or Romilda Vane actually can’t read a sign.  
Well…

He looks around between sea of chattering people, until he spots Ron, huddling with Ginny, Fred, George, Percy, Charlie, and Bill.

Huh, weird.

“Hey… what’s up?” Harry slips between Ron and Ginny, noting the lack of bickering and loud exclaims which ninety nine point nine percent will be there when all of them are in a close range.

Ron snaps his gaze to Harry. Whoa, he looks dangerous. “Lucius Malfoy.”

Now that he realizes, all of them have dark expression on their faces. In front of them, on the edge of the dance floor, stand Arthur and Molly, and, with daunting expression, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

“… baseless assumption while in the contrary, isn’t that you who…”

Shite. Worst of the worst happens. The Weasleys and The Malfoys meet and clash. The first time Harry heard about the Malfoys, years ago when Harry was in his first year, Arthur said that Lucius Malfoy was a thorn in his life he couldn’t get rid of. Harry didn’t think their hatred was this literal. Harry just thought that Arthur was talking about pompous, haughty purebloods in general, and Lucius Malfoy was just one annoying people Arthur unfortunately had to work with. But after time to time Harry heard Arthur’s stories, the Malfoys sprouting nonsense about blood purity and magical cultures as if everyone was lower than them, Harry hates them more and more.

“… ruins a perfect culture of our society. What a treason…” Lucius is still talking. Harry feels angry just by hearing the tone.

“I'm sorry, what is this all about?” Harry can’t help but step forward and interrupt. He really dislikes the direction of their confrontation.

“Harry, don’t pry. This is adult talking,” Molly pulls his hand. “Go.”

She pushes him slightly, making him walks away, but she seems like she’s also having a hard time maintaining her anger.

“Oh, so, that’s how you raise your children, then? Teach them no manner? Pity, such a _hero_ being raised by-“

Harry wants to turn around and throw a hex. Arthur and Molly is the closest person Harry has as parents. How dare him to mock them? But Molly beats him to it, “Hey, watch what you say about my son!”

Harry’s heart constricts with painful love. This is _his_ family. Bill pulls his hand, keeping him with them, his brothers and sister. And watch his parents defending their family. Damn, he hates feeling unable to help.

“How can he be just sitting there?” Ginny hisses in rage.

“I want to punch him just because of his ignorance!” Ron agrees.

“Who the hell else are we talking about?!” Harry’s anger is almost on the peak. This is not the time to make Harry oblivious about something.

“Draco Malfoy.” Fred and George reply in unison.

“Who?”

“The only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. He went to Ilvermorny but from now on he will reside with his parents in Wiltshire,” Percy answers. Harry doesn’t want to know how Percy knows about it.

“Where is he?” Harry is almost losing his patience.

Charlie points to a corner, where indeed, there is a boy, bright hair and tailored suit, sitting calmly, reading a book, with one hand raising a china cup to his mouth and slowly putting it back on the saucer, not caring that other guys and girls around him are socializing.

Harry suddenly wants to explode.  
With long strides and uncontrolled fume, he approaches the boy until he stands directly in front of him.

“You!”

Wide eyes snap up and meet his. Other than intense grey eyes that bore into him, there’s no other telltale that he’s shocked.

This only makes him angrier. “Are you Draco Malfoy?”

The blank face is still there. But then an eyebrow is raised. “Do I know you?”

Harry can’t stand him. He hits the table with his both hands, rattling the cup. “What the hell are you doing, just sitting here, ignoring the bloody world when your parents are making a chaos-“

“Sorry-”

“Is that what you call an apology? You can’t be more _sincere_.”

“It’s not an apology, it's to cut you off,” the blonde boy tilts his chin up, daring Harry.

And Harry’s so close to punch him. He can’t keep the anger any longer. He leans closer. “Listen,” he says as cold as possible. “I know you’re a pompous brat who never cares, who have everything you want and can just ask for more, maybe you and all your pureblood family think you all are always right, but no, actually you're not! Whatever you and your parents think about any other families, Keep. That. To. Yourselves! Because mine don’t care about that bullshit, so, tell your parents to stop mocking mine!”

Harry restrains himself from panting. For a moment, they freeze like that. Grey eyes stare to his, with a hint of _something_ , an expression Harry can’t decipher, and then he stretches long pale hand, and it make a brief contact to Harry’s chest near the base of his neck as he pushes him away.

Apparently it’s Harry’s turn to be shocked. The blond boy, -Harry refuses to call him by his name, even in his mind- stands up and adjusts his tux and looks over the direction Harry came from. Is it the lighting or is the boy actually glowing? And Harry can’t help but notice that the boy is taller than him.

Damn, so much for being intimidating.

When the boy’s gaze finally goes back to Harry, still with the blank expression, he says, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

And goes.

Harry’s jaw drops. For a moment he only can think, ‘What was that?’ until his brain operates again and he spins around.  
“What the hell? Wait!”

The boy ignores him, while he’s sure he can hear him. The jerk.

“Git, where are you going?” Harry demands, hurrying under crystal chandeliers, dodging waiters left and right. But the boy’s legs are long, and he’s lean, he moves so swiftly Harry has yet reached him. Instead he catches Romilda Vane and several other people watching them. Must be quite a sight, him chasing the most arrogant prat in the world.

But he stops several steps behind, when he realizes the boy has changes his pace and now casually saunters over their parents.  
“Mother… Father,” he says with more emphasis, “You’re attracting attention,” he says slowly.

It’s like Lucius Malfoy has just realized the onlookers around them. He looks around, like a deer in a highlight while trying to muster his dignity. “The Weasleys insult our tradition.”

The boy glances at the Weasleys with a questioning eyebrow but he waits no response.

He crouches gracefully and puts his book to the floor, -he is holding that this entire time, what the _heck_ \- slides it smoothly until it stops by hitting the bottom of stairs. What’s he doing? As if acknowledging Harry’s internal question, he stands and turns to his mother and bows a little bit. And then he holds out his hand, similar to asking someone to dance, but only holding out thumb, forefinger and middle finger. “May I have this dance?”

Lucius turns and stares at his son, somehow the expression give impression of ‘surprised’. Narcissa openly gasps. There must be a story behind that. Damn the mysterious, blonde, grey eyed bloke.

“Finally…” his mother smiles. Her fingers moves delicately but she hasn’t put it in her son’s hand. “But shouldn’t you-“

“I should take the most beautiful woman to my first dance, yes.” Then he smiles at her. “Aren’t I, now?”

As Narcissa’s bright chuckle erupts, Harry is suspicious someone’s messing with the air he inhales. It feels like thinning Harry almost can’t breathe.

“Oh Draco,” she says happily, caressing his hair and over his ear and then accepts her son’s invitation.

It’s like everyone is stopping what they’re doing, and join Harry and the Weasleys watching Draco and Narcissa Malfoy dance elegantly. It’s not like any other dance Harry has ever known, that dance looks very… accomplishing. The male’s moves are powerful but not rigid, and the female’s moves are delicate but strong. Those moves must be difficult to learn, let alone to do, but they dance it beautifully.

When the dance ends, almost everyone’s clapping. Even Fred, George, Percy, and Charlie are also clapping. Miracle doesn’t stop happening, it seems.

Narcissa and Draco look at each other, satisfied smile etched on their faces. For once, the Malfoys have expressions on their face. Even Lucius Malfoy has an almost-there smile etched on his lips.

A lot of the onlookers start dancing again, or chatting again, so maybe they don’t see that by now, the blonde boy invites his Father too.

Lucius seems intrigued.

“Come on, Father,” the blond boy opens his palm, and crooks his fingers a bit, -similar to asking people to usual dance, Harry notices- encourages Lucius to step closer.

When Lucius accepts the hand, though, the blonde boy drags his Father’s hand to meet his Mother’s.

Lucius implores at this. “Why don’t we three dance together, Draco?”

The blonde boy makes a show of glancing around, then with a smirk, he replies, “We’re going to attract more attention, Father.”

When he hears the soft chuckle, Harry definitely has to check whether the air around him is healthy-to-breathe, because he feels like suffocated twice in one hour already. 

From the times Harry has come to every Ministry’s occasion, Harry had never witnessed Lucius Malfoy smiles, let alone chuckle.

Still with a smile, the blonde boy nods to his Father, who replies him with the same nod and a prominent smile. A prominent smile and also proud eyes.  
He leaves, and at the bottom of the stairs, he picks up the book he’d thrown, flicking it open several pages, and then climbs up one-third of the stairs.

It hits Harry like a train, the realization of the blonde boy’s action. He’s distracting his parents, yes, but also showing everyone a part of pureblood tradition, a Malfoy’s tradition. He’s proving a point that not everything about pureblood tradition is as bad as most wizards think. It can be cultured, educated, and beautiful at the same time.

At least it’s what it looks like to Harry.

Then the blonde boy turns around and stops there for a minute, watching with a smile as his parents waltzed. 

Like he can read Harry’s mind, the blonde boy catches Harry looking at him. 

His face is blank once again, but now it’s Harry’s stomach which is felt like churned because of guilt.

And then he breaks eye contact and climbs up the rest of the stairs.

  
Damn, if those aren’t the _most_ intriguing eyes Harry’s ever seen…

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this one, maybe you'll like my other fics..  
> Thank you so much for reading :)


End file.
